


i'mma get your heart racing, in my skin-tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight

by craftingdead



Series: charlie will make cd a common tag if it kills them [24]
Category: The Crafting Dead
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Flashbacks, For the most part, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Kissing, M/M, Prom, Slow Dancing, Unhealthy Relationships, ex boyfriends always ruin prom night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:29:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craftingdead/pseuds/craftingdead
Summary: Let you put your hands on me, in my skin-tight jeans,be your teenage dream tonight...Shark opened the door to his mom standing there, arms crossed and looking up expectantly. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, mouth parting in surprise.“Oh, Shark, my baby, you look so mature,” she cried and threw her arms around his neck. Shark bent down and awkwardly pat her back, letting her babble into his shoulder about how proud she was of him and how old he was getting and how this was his senior prom and how he was going to be eighteen in a few months then going to college and moving out and —“Okay, Mom, I get it, ” he said and pulled away from the hug. She wiped tears off her cheeks and out of her eyes, smiling brightly. It wasn't really her fault for freaking out, however. It was prom night, after all.





	i'mma get your heart racing, in my skin-tight jeans, be your teenage dream tonight

**Author's Note:**

> (songs, in order;  
> any 2000s song of your choice really  
> love story - taylor swift  
> maneater - nelly furtado  
> mama's gun - glass animals)
> 
> tw for neglectful/absent fathers, and implied abuse (sexual/emotional, mainly) and age differences

“ _I can’t believe you two convinced me into this._ ”

Ghetto laughed over the phone. “ _What, you don’t like light gray? Or you don’t like suits? Or both? Sorry pal, we can’t fix that, we already agreed to it, you should have backed out earlier. This is a strict ‘no refunds’ household._ ”

“Yeah, AK.” Shark grinned even though AK couldn’t see it. “Is the suit too itchy? Or are you having a tough time getting it on? Have you ever worn a suit before?”

“ _If you really wanted, we could’ve picked out something more wild for you. You never did respond to my question asking if you wanted assless chaps. How is a man supposed to know what his friend wants when he won’t specify whether or not he wants assless chaps!_ ”

“ _I’ll have you know that I’ve worn many different suits to many different occasions,_ ” AK said stiffly, ignoring what Ghetto said completely. “ _I’m just… not that big of a fan of this one. I don’t even have a date, why should I have to go to prom with you guys?_ ”

“ _Because you can never wear too many suits._ ” Shark rolled his eyes at Ghetto’s words, still forgetting that the two of them couldn’t see him.

“Because it’s fun?” he said

“ _Because we said so._ ”

“Who knows? You could pick up a lonely, hot girl at prom whose boyfriend broke up with her to cozy up to if you get my drift,” Shark said.

“ _Okay, first of,_ ” AK began as Ghetto snickered, “ _I know that you can never wear too many suits, but they sure as hell aren’t fun to fucking get tailored and paid for. Second, I don’t need to pick up any girls at prom. I’ll just hang out until you two aren’t paying attention, and slip away to go home and play video games until two AM, or whatever it is you two think I do. I sure as hell am not ‘cozying up’ to any girl, ex-boyfriend or not, Shark._ ”

He said his name with as much venom as AK could sum up, but that still didn’t faze Shark. They were friends, after all, and all the intimidation he had put off in the early days of their friendship had long since worn off. For the most part, since AK could probably suplex him, or something. But other than that, he didn’t scare Shark.

“Hey, Ghetto, are you going with anyone?” Shark asked.

“ _Yeah, Ghetto, are you?_ ” AK shot quickly, obviously looking for a chance to get back at Ghetto for making fun of him earlier.

“Maybe _you_ can find a hot, lonely girl to cozy up to.”

“ _I’m gay, Shark,_ ” Ghetto said, “ _and no, I don’t have a date, but I know what I’m going to be doing the entire night, so I don’t really need one. Also, I’m helping with the music, so if I did have a date, they’d be pretty lonely for periods of time. Don’t need my potential smokin’ hot date to abandon me for a nerd incel._ ”

“ _Really? Did you think this all out?_ ” AK asked.

“ _Of course—a man has got priorities._ ”

“Why did you say that you knew what you were going to do all night then immediately after mention how you’re helping with the music?” Shark said. “Shouldn’t you just have said that you were helping with the music or whatever?”

“ _I know what I’m going to do all night beside the music, since someone is getting so worked up about it,_ ” Ghetto sniffed.

“Yeah? What are you doing then?”

AK snorted as Ghetto, with a haughty tone to his voice, began to speak. “ _Well, since someone decided to fucking date my best friend—the person totally doesn’t have a stupid ass name—I haven’t been able to hang out with him at all the last three weeks. Three weeks! It’s infuriating, I fucking swear. I thought only straight people did that dumb shit! Jesus Christ._ ”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shark asked, face burning. AK sucked in a hard breath and started cough-laughing through the phone from a distance.

“ _It means I’m going to have to steal him away to fucking, talk for a least thirty minutes tonight. We’ve been best friends for eight years. Eight years! You don’t just throw that away when you get a fucking, boyfriend or whatever. Eight years! Eight fucking years I’ve known this dude. Yo—his boyfriend doesn't even compare to that. Fucking, God. Eight!_ ”

“ _Eight what, Ghetto?_ ” AK wheezed. 

“ _Years! Eight motherfucking years!_ ”

“I don’t know,” Shark said.

“Maybe he would start hanging out with you if, I don’t know… you were cooler? Just a suggestion I’m throwing out there, kinda, in a way.”

“ _How about you go fuck off? I’m the coolest bitch in this town._ ”

“At least I won’t be lonely on prom night.”

AK’s shitty cough-laughter started up, the sound of him refusing to acknowledge something that one of the two of them said was funny but being unable to not laugh his ass off at it. The deadly seconds that started piling up after Shark said that were unbearably long—not even disturbed by AK’s disturbing laughter. He swore he was gonna start choking, then they’d hear a slam and then never hear from him again.

“ _Hey, Shark?_ ” Ghetto started. Probably started. Shark was probably in for the insulting of his lifetime, right here right now. He had a good run.

_Tell Nick I love him_. “Uh, yeah?” Shark asked nervously.

“ _I really, honestly, truly, utterly hope that—wait, you know what, I’m not bothering. So, Shark, you’re not going to be lonely on prom night huh? Wonder what that’s supposed to imply. It’s not like you have a boyfriend or whatever. And we all know what happens on prom night, I’m pretty sure TV has embedded it in our heads by now._ ”

AK said, “ _Shark’s gonna get to have sex?_ ” like he didn’t understand what Ghetto was trying to imply, and the beginning Ghetto’s roaring scream-laughter was cut short by Shark suddenly hanging up on the both of them. He wasn’t going to have this conversation; his day was going good. His day was going good! It was going to stay good.

Shark looked up into the mirror, still slightly fogged up from the shower he had just taken. (He was not in the call at that point, that would be weird.) He could still see most of his reflection clearly, however: a Prussian blue suit (the tags words, not his) with a pale gray undershirt. He had a black bowtie—they flipped a coin for tie vs. bowtie—but it was too hard to get tied properly so he abandoned it.

The only problem he was having was his fucking _hair._ It refused to stay flat, no matter how many times he painfully pulled a comb through it! He had straight hair—and this had never been a problem until now. Of course. Prom night was going to be the one time he couldn’t get his hair to look right.

In one last, hopeful attempt, he doused the comb in water, bent his head over the sink and tried to comb it through one last time. Even the risk of getting his suit wet was not enough to get his hair to look nice, he thought miserably, as he dried it with his hands and watched as this  _one fucking tangle_ started forming on the side.

At least he tried. Maybe he could comb it through with his hands and try to fix it on the drive to the school—trying not to crash his car on the way.

His pity party was cut short when someone knocked at the bathroom door. “Shark?” his mom asked, knocking again softly. “It’s almost time, sweetie. You’ll want to come out soon. I wanna see my son!”

“Coming, mom!” he called, hastily shoving his comb back in the cabinets and pretending like he didn’t just have a crisis over his hair not lying flat. His phone found a nice snug place in his pockets and he ignored the near fifty notifications from AK and Ghetto _alone._

Shark opened the door to his mom standing there, arms crossed and looking up expectantly. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh, Shark, my baby, you look so mature,” she cried and threw her arms around his neck. Shark bent down and awkwardly pat her back, letting her babble into his shoulder about how proud she was of him and how old he was getting and how this was his senior prom and how he was going to be eighteen in a few months _then going to college and moving out and_ —

“ _Okay, Mom, I get it,_ ” he said and pulled away from the hug. She wiped tears off her cheeks and out of her eyes, smiling brightly.

“Have I ever told you how proud I am of you? Because I’m so, super proud of you, honey.” She laughed, tears gathering in her eyes again. “And no matter how big or great you get, you’ll always be my little Shark, you know that right? You’ll always be my little boy.”

Shark made a little “oof” sound as she threw herself at him again, full-out sobbing this time. He was used to his mom being emotional over, like, every little thing relating to him, but this was slightly unexpected. He hugged her back this time, leaning over more and cupping the back of her head with his hand. She cried away from his clothes and breathing was starting to get a little difficult, but this was his mom so he didn’t try and hurry up the hug; the main event still wasn’t for a good thirty or forty minutes.

( _The first time she met Nick, his boyfriend instead of just friend, she ended up crying on the couch; she had known that kid, Shark couldn’t shut up about him, and cried about how happy she was that they had realized what they meant to each other, then promised that their house was always open to Nick._

_It was a little different meeting Nick’s mom for the first time ever, which was a mild trainwreck and included at least five different thinly veiled threats from the Big Mama herself, but at least his mom didn’t mention anything about them breaking up, which was better than his last relationship’s “meeting the parents” had gone._ )

He finally pushed her away by the shoulders. _Yes, mom, I love you but I need to get going_. “Mom, I need to get going, the guys are waiting for me,” he said softly.

She sniffed and didn’t wipe away her tears this time. “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll let you go, honey. I’m so proud of you.”

“Mom, it’s just prom, it’s not like I’m graduating yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m proud of you,” she said and smiled. “You know, if he was here, your father would be so proud and happy for you as well, I just know it.”

Shark’s own smile fell. The conversation had just turned into the one direction he least wanted it to go: Towards his dad. He loved his mom but… did she really have to bring him up like this? Right after their emotional bonding? Sure, to his knowledge, his dad wasn’t exactly a bad guy, but he had never met him, so what was even the point in bringing him up if he hadn’t impacted Shark’s life at all?

“Yeah. I guess,” he said hollowly, mood taking a dive from the top of the world to the bottom of a pit, deciding to start making his way towards the front door instead of continuing this conversation. He still needed to drive to the place, prom wouldn’t drive itself to his house.

“Honey?” his mom asked as he reached for the doorknob. “Is something wrong? Is it that I brought up your dad? He really did and does care about you, and every word I speak about him is true. Can you believe me about that? I’m sorry if I said anything out of place, but I need you to know that.”

He forced a smile and turned to his mom. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah! It’s fine. It’s not really like I’ve never met him, or whatever. Yeah. It’s fine, mom, it’s cool. I need to get to the school now, AK is probably already there, from what I know of him, so I should hurry up. Bye, see you after it’s over—”

This time, he managed to get halfway through the door before his mom called out again: “We’ve been talking a lot more, recently. He really wants to meet you. He understands what he did was wrong and leaving me and you was wrong but he really wants to make an effort, this time, and told me to tell you he hopes to meet you and your new boyfriend this summer—”

Shark let the door shut on her words. He leaned against the door, sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled. Then did it again. Then started walking to his car, fishing out his keys from his pockets, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head talking about his father.

This was his night. This was _his_ fucking night and he was going to have fun and not worry about any family problems going on at all.

I mean, it wasn’t that big of a problem, he thought as he walked down the street to where he was forced to park his car, his dumb suburban neighborhood too cramped for anything else. A lot of kids have absent or shitty fathers. Be glad that he wasn’t actually neglectful.

His mother used to love talking about her prom with his dad. Their first dance, she always said dreamily, talking about how they’d met recently and been absolutely taken with each other: He had almost asked her out on the spot. Passed sweet notes in class, thought about each other after school, caught movies and lunch on the weekends while sharing a milkshake. It was this perfect, romantic setting and despite everything she said being completely true, every confession of love and every stupid damn ukulele song, his dad still ended up panicking and leaving the day after he was born.

His mom always told him not to feel bad, that his father was bound to leave eventually, he was too paranoid, too scared of being tied down, and she would’ve been fine if he left no kids or three, because it was his decision and she’s always worked better alone than with a partner on projects—especially in school.

Still sucked ass.

He got in his car, pressing his head back against the seat, then leaned forward with his forehead on the steering wheel. _Jesus… why did she have to bring him up_? For a minute, Shark considered banging his head against the wheel. Instead, he did something else.

“ _Hey, Nick. Yeah, I know your phone is probably turned off or something while Shelby forces you to help her with whatever prom plans she has but… I just want to say a few things. Talk about some stuff? You probably won't get this until tomorrow, if we’re being real, but at this point, I really don’t care._

“ _My mom ended up mentioning my dad and shit as she wished me good luck in mom-speak or whatever as I was trying to leave. Ended up feeling pretty bad, I’m not gonna lie. So I just wanna say… fuck, this is stupid as hell, but I really really like you and I really really appreciate you and just… I can’t wait to see you, later tonight. God, I really hope you don’t listen to this until later, that’ll be embarrassing as fuck._

“ _God I really, really can’t wait to see you. I’m fucking shit at leaving voicemails, but if I ever end up doing anything like my dad did to my mom to you, beat my ass. Literally, just fucking kill me. Or don’t since you’re too nice. I really don’t think I’ve felt the way I do towards you towards anyone else before. Please, please, please don’t listen to this before we talk, I’d probably just die on the spot. Uh, I don’t know how to end this, but I hope my outfit isn’t too stupid and my hair isn’t too messy. I could barely get it combed. Later, babe. I guess. Fuck, I’m bad at this._

“ _I really do like and appreciate you._

“ _Later for real this time. I lo_ —”

—

He caught up with AK and Ghetto as they were walking towards the school, chatting animatedly. Actually, Ghetto was speaking and AK was doing something on his phone, but they started talking for real after Ghetto grabbed his phone and confiscated it. That’s what it looked like, at least, from where Shark was standing.

And, indeed, they were both in the suits that Ghetto and Shark got on their knees and begged AK to wear. Ghetto’s green with a dark shirt, the pants he was supposed to wear discarded for jeans, tie undone and hanging around his neck. He was messing around with the top button of his shirt, going to undo it and leave his collar open, because that was just the kind of person Ghetto was. AK’s was gray, a horrible orange undershirt to go along with it. He also had a very, very uncomfortable looking bowtie on him, also bright orange, and looked like he may start choking halfway through the night. His hair was greasy and in a ponytail. As always.

The slap on the back he got from Ghetto damn near popped his ears, as he yelled, over the deafening music Shark could hear from the parking lot, “Looking good, man!”

AK nodded in agreement. “I see you… chose to abandon your tie,” he said, in a voice that yelled, “GOD WHY DIDN’T I DO THAT.” He smiled, eyes narrowed, and Shark felt the tiniest amount of sympathy for this poor, greasy man.

Ghetto whistled. “You have a better sense then I thought you would. Though, instead of your normal douchey sunglasses, you should’ve gone with heart-shaped ones. For the spirit of prom, y’know?” When Shark turned to glare at him, he was grinning and had already rolled up his sleeves to his shoulders so he didn’t bother.

“At least two of us do,” Shark said.

“Amen!” Ghetto laughed. “One day, we’ll be famous. And AK will still be here, living in his mom’s basement, arguing with teenagers online. Or on r/redpill, one of the two.”

AK sped past both of them, walking faster towards the gym doors. On the wall, a sign reading “PROM!!!” in bright rainbow colors was displayed and floating in the wind. A few kids were lounging on the top of the roof; another sign next to them read “DON’T LET THE CHAPERONES KNOW WE’RE HERE.” The entire place was bathed in bright lights—a lot of yellows and purples and blues, in specific.

“The fuck? Why are there freshmen here? What senior would want to invite freshmen?” Ghetto leered at some younger kids as they walked by, nervously glancing from side-to-side with a few older kids by their side.

“I mean, I invited a junior.”

“There’s a difference between inviting someone a year younger than you and inviting a fucking fourteen-year-old, Shark,” he said.

“I guess,” he responded and before he knew it, they were in the main building, looking out on a sea of teenagers (and some adult chaperones) dancing awkwardly to bad 2000s music on a gym floor.

The adults stayed to the side in groups, on their phone or talking to one each other or glaring at the kids like they personally are the reason that they’re here, and not because emails were sent out to people months earlier and there were multiple difference chances for them to bail out of it if they wanted. No one bothered to separate the people grinding and doing inappropriate dances, as always.

A tiny form barreled into him and Ghetto, stretching to the tip of her toes and throwing her arms around their shoulders to drag them down to her height of a measly four-eleven. “Guys!” Jess screamed over the roar of the music. “You finally got here! I’ve been waiting for _ages._ ” She rolled her eyes at that and made a face.

“Sorry, Jessie, someone took fucking forever getting ready, _Shark,_ ” Ghetto said, hunched over awkwardly to look her in the eye.

“Hey! It’s not all my fault! I couldn’t get my hair to work for the life of me, and my mom kept me from leaving,” Shark defended.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure one of those _is actually_ your fault. Sorry to burst your bubble, but your hair is connected to your body.”

Jess rolled her eyes, again, and smacked both of them against the back of the head. “ _Ugh._ Stop being annoying. I’ve been so fucking bored without you guys here to be entertaining. Had to come in early to help with decorations and food—never doing _that_ again. Never. I couldn’t even stop some of the drinks from being spiked! Yeah, that’s a thing, some of the drinks are spiked, watch out for the ones on the far right of the table.”

“How the hell did someone sneak in alcohol with our principle?” Ghetto asked.

“No idea. But oh, thank god, you guys are finally here! And you two are looking so good! Now that the fun people are finally starting to arrive, this room will probably start looking way more like a party than it is right now. And those suits! The only other decently good looking suit I saw earlier was on some twenty-year-old—ugh, this is going to be so great once Sky and Barney show up.”

She made them twirl for her—Shark shuffling around in a circle and Ghetto almost dancing his way through his with a grin on his face—and squealed in excitement when she noticed Ghetto’s undone shirt button. God, Shark should’ve at least rolled up his sleeves as well.

Jess herself was in a black A-line gown—not so much when Shark looked down, however, and saw the purple gradient start at her waist. The top of it was sleeveless and lacey, and lining up her left arm was a series of golden bracelets.

“You don’t look half bad yourself!” Ghetto complimented.

Jess giggled in response and then, much to his chagrin and surprise, punched Shark’s arm really, really hard. He rubbed at it, wincing, as she exclaimed, “I’m still so glad that you guys are here! I thought I was going to lose my mind—weird looking guys kept hitting on me. I’m going to go see if I can see Sky and Barney showing up from the parking lot now, so have fun boys! See you later!” And, as quick as she came, she was gone again.

They waved after her, and Ghetto laughed as he noticed Shark still massaging his soon-to-be-bruise. “She punches hard, huh? I’m gonna go help with the music now, this selection is hideously bad.” Then, like Jess, he was off, hands in his pockets and shoulders squared and assuring his place as the coolest guy in the place.

Shark himself also made his way through the room, trying to find wherever the food was and wherever the rest of his friend group was. Ghetto was arguing with an adult near where they had set up all the music, and Jess was nowhere to be found.

On his way through the room, he ran into Uni and Cory—the former in an ungodly fancy three-piece navy blue suit, and the latter in a graphic tee-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, as he always was. Uni went on about how excited he was about the event and how his girlfriend was bound to show up soon and Cory didn’t say anything but was bound to third-wheel Uni and his girlfriend for the entire night, because he had nothing to do.

Towards the end of the conversation, Uni’s girlfriend popped up, cutting it short. Cory took one look at the way they were holding each other and smiling and said, “Yeah, no thank you, I’ll be on my way,” then walked off towards the doors with a cigarette in one hand and popping open a lighter in the other.

After that, he ran into Mousie—in a cheetah print skirt and black suit jacket with a low-cut pink blouse, no less—who congratulated him on getting with Nick then threatened his dick if he did anything to hurt “that kid, he’s really nice!”

“I’ll do my best? Please don’t cut my dick off,” he said.

“No promises,” Mousie responded.

He was saved by Gray, who pulled him to the side, with a few apologetic words to Mousie to tell him about how if he sees any drugs or alcohol, he should report it to one of the chaperones immediately. Shark remembered Cory walking off with a cigarette, and said, “No, I haven’t seen anyone with anything.” Then he walked away, feeling less guilty than he probably should.

Sky and Barney walked in a little later, arm in arm (Barney was in a tacky floral romper with a suit jacket to match, and Sky was in some combination of a crop top and dress pants that didn’t make sense to Shark) and he finally saw Jess again, in the form of a black-to-purple blur sprinting across the room. Was she wearing heels? He couldn’t remember if he saw any before. Then he watched as Sky got brutally tackled to the floor. Poor guy.

The party was, honestly, starting to get a little boring at this point, since he had been wondering around for thirty minutes, only occasionally talking to his friends and at one point eating fifteen ritz crackers from the “crack table” (the S and N on the sign hanging down from it had been crossed out and replaced).

At least Sky’s pain was somewhat entertaining, as Barney laughed hysterically at the two of them on the floor.

A few other kids watched the whole thing go down—watched as Jess screamed something incoherent—but Ghetto was trying to catch his eye from across the gym, gesturing to something a little ways away, and he was trying to see what he was rapidly pointing at and—

—and his train of thought was cut off as a different, this time red-haired blur ran into him. She was like, five or seven inches shorter than him, so it barely packed a punch but Shark reeled in surprise as Shelby stumbled back, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, hey, Shelby,” he said, sheepishly, since he might’ve just knocked her silly. “Glad to see you here! …Are you good? Did the collision give you a concussion? Do I have to call Xavier over?”

Shelby got a hold of herself and punched his arm in the same spot where Jess had earlier. “No, idiot! A little collision won’t keep me down. And I was looking for you, either way, so at least I completed one of the goals I have for tonight!”

She, like many people he had seen at the dance, was wearing a suit jacket, a light blue one, over a loose yellow shirt— _with_ a tie. Unlike anyone he’d seen at the dance, however, she was wearing light blue denim shorts over black tights. She was also wearing combat boots, which somehow brought everything she was wearing together. Honestly, he was expecting much fewer people to wear something even mildly fancy, so this came as a little surprise.

“That’s… kind of unexpected. Well, actually I didn’t really expect you to be here at all, so,” Shark continued, rocking back on his heels, “who are you going with?

“Bold of you to assume I didn’t just come for kicks.” Shelby fluttered her eyelashes and grinned. “Jess invited me. Where is she, by the way? I swore I saw her earlier, but then I lost her, so now I’m looking for her again. I’m _bored as hell_ here, alone.”

Shark planted his feet on the ground and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Well, I just saw her tackle Sky over by the doors”—her eyes widened—”so if you head that way, you’ll run into her eventually. Personally, I don’t know your tastes when it comes to—well, I don’t know your tastes when it comes to anything, but in my humble opinion she is wearing a bitchin’ dress, and I think you might want to see that.”

“Oh is she?” Shelby said, voice slipping into that bridge between normal amounts of eager and a much more sultry tone that made him wonder if he would see them at the end of the night.

“Yeah, she is. Won’t spoil anything for you, but it’s lacey.”

“Well, I best be getting on that.” She bowed and smiled. “Thank you for the help, kind sir. It is truly appreciated.

As she went by, she punched his arm (in the same fucking spot) again, and said, “Don’t be getting too eager tonight. I _will_ know and there _will_ be punishments if you get my brother knoc—”

“Okay! Shelby, okay!” Shark yelped, interrupting her. He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her towards where he had last seen Jess. “I get it! You can go now! I don’t need anything else from this conversation, _thank you and goodbye._ ”

She laughed with a double skip, almost tripping over herself as she steadied into a jog away from him. He shook his head, rubbing the spot on his arm where he had now been punched three times by two different girls. Jesus Christ, he forgot how hard of a punch both of them could throw. There was a ninety-nine percent chance of there being a bruise on his arm right now.

In his arm-punched pity party, he almost missed Shelby turning sharply—scaring two sophomores in the process—and waving her arms in the air, gesturing at him vigorously.

He mouthed “what?” because with the volume of the music now (it had gone up after Ghetto had gotten his hands on it) it would be impossible for her to actually hear him. Her gesturing turned from trying to get his attention to pointing to the left of him, a wild look on her face. (As he turned to look, she gave him two thumbs up before sprinting away.) He didn’t know what she was trying to gesture towards, nor what Ghetto had, but they were probably related and— _oh_.

_Oh_.

There was no surprise why she was so rushed to get his attention; standing just a few feet away from Shark, playing with a curl of hair and chatting happily with Ghetto, was Nick.

In something just familiar enough to Shelby’s to cause minor deja vu, he was in a loose, collared white shirt, a black tank top barely showing underneath. And, similar to Shelby’s style, he had a pair of dark red shorts over black tights, and instead of her combat boots, had a pair of regular black boots that reached just below his knee. Compared to his sister, who was full of angles and sharp elbows to jab into his ribs when he stared at her brother for a little longer than she deemed necessary, he was… much softer, in his opinion. Nicer. With loose curls ending just a little past his chin and brilliant green eyes shown when he angled his heads more towards Shark that weren’t as related to his original descriptor of soft but… damn… Shark was getting very lost in them

One other thing that could be described as soft was the spot where his waist met his hips, and down lower to his thighs and no— _Shark, you’re staring at his ass again, go talk to him or something instead of doing this for five minutes._

After finally getting his jaw off the floor (he _did_ have a really nice ass) and his legs to stop wobbling and actually obey him for once, Ghetto caught his eye and discreetly waved him over, glancing over to Nick and saying something dismissive before stepping back and not-so-discreetly winking at Shark. His mouth was extremely dry. But hey, that was his date (his lonely boy to cozy up to, a voice in his head said) so he better get over there.

His traitorous legs only got him about halfway there, _damn you, legs, I can’t surprise him now_ before Nick turned and saw him, mouth parting into an O before turning into a wide smile and an echo of Shark’s name bouncing off the walls before he was two-thirds of the way towards him, Nick was running and suddenly Shark had his lithe figure in his arms and damn, that felt nice.

It wasn’t much, seeing as they had seen each other two days before, specifically for a date but it always felt good to hold Nick; wrapping an arm around his back to pull him in closer as he pressed his head into the crook underneath Shark’s chin.

“I missed you,” Nick breathed and he felt woozy, screws pulled loose and his head spinning. _Why did he always have to smell so fucking good he was gonna pass out one of these days._

“It’s been two days,” he responded.

Nick pulled his head away to look up at Shark with his brows furrowed. “So?” he said. “I’ve still missed you. We could barely talk at all today or yesterday. I was so lonely, with my thoughts and the sound of Shelby on the phone until three AM.”

The late 2000s hits that had been playing faded out and turned into a slower, more romantic, still late 2000s song and if he looked he was sure he would see Ghetto fiddling with it. He was pretty sure it was a Taylor Swift song. He didn’t care.

“I missed you too,” Shark said and the way Nick’s face almost made him say it again. Call him a high schooler who didn’t understand what love was, but he would say whatever he could to make Nick look at him like that and never stop.

“You better have.”

“Trust me, I did. I wandered around looking for something fun to do for like, thirty minutes before you showed up. I had to talk to Uni and Cory. Uni’s girlfriend showed up and I had to watch Cory be moody and storm off. I had to like to Gray about whether or not I knew if there were any drugs or alcohol being ‘spread around’ at this party. But, finally, something interesting is happening.” He topped off his rant with a wink, praying it wasn’t awkward.

Nick laughed, eyes closed and hair falling into his face (Shark brushed it away with his hand). “So I’m ‘interesting,’ huh?”

“Personally, I’d say that you were the _most_ interesting person both at prom. And to me.”

“O-oh,” he stuttered. “W-well, if you had that much time to wander around, you could’ve at least texted me and brought up that you were gonna be _fancy_. I could have thrown on something a little more formal. You can’t be the only good looking one out of the two of us.”

“Absolutely not,” Shark protested. “What—no, you look better than I ever could. If you aren’t the most handsome person at this school, I’ll eat my own hat. I… I don’t have a hat, I’ll eat my shades if you aren’t the prettiest person at this school.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but he was practically shining in Shark’s arms. “Flattery only gets you so far, Andrews, I hope you know that.”

_Like your room?_ “I try my best, I know.” Shark grinned and spun Nick as the song changed, pulling him even closer to his chest afterward. “You wouldn’t have even gotten my text. I sent you a voicemail and you haven’t even brought it up once. Not even once!”

“You sent me a voicemail? Is it important? Should I listen to it now or soon?”

“No, no, no, don’t worry,” he said in response to Nick’s confusion and worry, trying to stop that in its place. “It’s nothing too important. Listen to it after prom, though, if you are gonna listen to it. I say some embarrassing shit in that voicemail, I don’t know if I would be able to handle watching you listen to it here.”

“At least you admitted its existence. Did something happen?” he asked.

Shark sighed. “Nothing too bad but… my mom ended up mentioning some stuff about my dad _right_ before I left, even bringing up how she had been in contact with him and how he wanted to talk to me again and. I don’t know, it just got me down for a little while, hearing about him right before an event like this.”

Nick reached up and pressed his hand against his cheek. “I’m sorry, she shouldn’t have brought him up,” he said softly, endearingly. “If you need to talk about it, we can always head out to the hall or to your car. I’m here for you.”

His heart thudded in his chest and his face was probably bright red right now, but Shark didn’t care as he reached up and held tight onto Nick’s hand, entwining it with his own and bringing it down away from his face. “No, that’s alright babe, I’m better now, I promise. It had just gotten to me at that moment. I appreciate the sentiment—God, you’re so nice, Nick, have I ever mentioned that? You’re literally the nicest person I’ve ever met. And super beautiful— _fuck,_ fuck this, I’m gonna get choked up.”

“That sure is a new one,” Nick said after a few seconds. Then, he slipped his grasp out of Shark’s and threw his arms around his neck. “But if you’re sure, we can stay here, and do whatever teens do on prom besides dance.”

“We aren’t even really dancing, we’re more just, fucking, swaying. God, I hate these stupid school events, they always make me so sentimental and stuff. I’m gonna be graduating in a month, that’s fucking insane.”

“And I’ll still be here for another year, missing you dearly and deeply and gazing longingly out of windows instead of doing my work thinking of the times where you were at this school.

“Maybe you can graduate early. Take that test thing, you’re smart enough to pass it. You can join me and the gang in college so you won’t have to be left alone in this dumb school.”

“But what about Shelby? I wouldn’t want to leave her alone to the elements.”

“She can test out, too. You two can be teenage prodigies together.”

Nick laughed. “I’m pretty sure testing out at junior year doesn’t count as being a child _or_ teenage prodigy. I think it just means you’re super impatient—or have a senior boyfriend who you don’t wanna miss when he goes to college.”

“But imagine how many people you could make jealous, testing out.”

“They would think I died, or something.”

“A worthy death, I’d say.”

He frowned. (In the background, Jess was fiddling with the lights.) “A worthy death? I’d rather die in a bathtub hopped up on Xanax than die because some kids thought I was kidnapped and murdered, instead of testing out of high school early. Do you know if you believe in something really, really hard, it comes true? Those kids would be the cause of my young death. Your boyfriend would be killed because he decided to test out.”

“You’re like, super creative, you know that?” Shark said. “‘Die in a bathtub hopped up on Xanax,’ wow, that’s the kind of shit you hear in a psychedelic pop song. I love how you can turn a conversation about testing out of school into one about being brutally murdered.”

“As if you don’t do the exact same thing all the damn time,” Nick said. “It’s just the Lynx charm, you know? Or I picked it up from Ghetto. One of the two.”

“Lynx charm, huh?”

The lights changed as he smiled up at Shark, going from bright blues and greens and yellows to darker reds and oranges and purples. More of the overhead lights went out as well, the room turning much darker than it had before. He knew the vibe Jess had gone for and felt it well as a Nelly Furtado song came on, to top everything off. The delighted, knowing laugh of Sky came from somewhere across the room, loud and demanding and Gray would be having a _blast_ trying to find people doing inappropriate stuff now.

A buzz was going through his body and while it could be from the music and lighting change, Shark was pretty sure it was from the spiked drink he’d had a few sips of earlier, then dumped away because Gray was looking at him funny. Nick swayed to the song, shirt sticking to his sides, stark black tank top even more obvious than it was before. A thin black strap was slipping off his shoulder.

There’s a weird, drunk feeling going through his body. Like he’s been here before. Like he’s gotten on his knees and fought and sacrificed for Nick—something deeper than he could ever feel, seventeen (almost eighteen!) and dumb, dancing with a cute boy at prom. There’s something old in the way he grabs his hand, in the way Nick looks at him. It makes him feel dizzy, makes him weak to his knees to think about it. He shouldn’t think about it, instead, get busy with the body pressed against him, but there’s some rooted anxiety in his stomach and the concept makes his head spin.

_I’ve been here before._ He doesn’t know what it means, or if it’s just some tipsy thought, but Shark feels like an old spark rekindled and Nick looks like the moon, fallen from the sky and onto Earth, lost but beautiful. _We’ve done this before._

Shark needed to sit down before he thinks any harder on this and has a seizure in the middle of the dance floor. There are some subjects that are better left unexplored and unsaid.

(He doesn’t feel full without a blood smear across his cheek.)

“I think I need to sit down,” he slurred, hand resting low on Nick’s hip. “God—fuck, I drank some alcohol-y thing earlier and it’s messing with my head. That shit was a lot stronger than I thought it was. I like, really really need to sit down, I think.”

Nick looked worried, but still took his hand and led him away from the dance floor, steading him after he almost tripped over someone’s dress. His head started to clear the further away from the center of the room they got, finally getting some fresh air away from the packed floor, and by the time they reached one of the tables he could walk normally with Nick holding onto his arm really, really tight. There was still an uncomfortable heat on his face and ears, though, and every time Nick up brushed against him a jolt went up his spine.

At the table Shark was being led to, sat AK and Ghetto. He couldn’t tell if they were talking—it was too dark, damn you, Jess, after all—but they looked up as the two of them approached and waved them over. He practically fell into his chair, slumping over the back and sighing in relief loudly. He hadn’t realized how sore his legs had gotten.

He noticed that Nick hadn’t sat down with him, and learned of the reason when he came back with a glass of water and passed it over to him. Shark gulped it down thankfully, feeling his head clear even more.

“Is he good?” AK asked him. Shark didn’t even mind that AK didn’t address him, too glad to actually have a glass of water. Water had never tasted so good.

“Yeah, Shark’s fine, just kind of tipsy—hold on, excuse me, AK, what the _hell_ are you wearing?”

Shark choked on his drink as Ghetto started snickering uncontrollably, watching the two of them with his hand raised to his face to try and mask it. AK looked offended, and said, with much haughtiness, “What is that supposed to mean? Personally, I’m a very big fan of this suit, and it cost a lot, so wearing has been very much worth it. Do you see a problem with it, _Nick?_ ”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said deadpan, either not aware or ignoring the thinly veiled threat in AK’s voice. “It looks stupid as fuck. What made you think that getting that color shirt and tie would be a good idea?”

“I think it looks charming,” AK said stiffly, sniffing and turning his head away in annoyance.

“You’re entitled to your wrong opinion!” Nick chirped cheerfully. Ghetto’s snickering turned into full-on laughter as, AK, looking extremely offended, got up, shoved his chair in roughly, and walked off, muttering something about how his suit looked wonderful and how proud he was about it and how he wouldn’t trade any other suit for it.

“You know, for someone who really didn’t want to wear this suit, he gets super offended when you make fun of it,” Shark said. “It’s like everything he said about not liking it earlier goes completely down the drain. A mystery, really.”

Ghetto grinned. “He must have gotten attached to it. In the span of—how long has it been? An hour and a half, two hours? Maybe the way the suit felt at his house didn’t flatter him, but started feeling a lot better when he got here?”

“A lot can change in the span of two hours, I guess.” Shark put his glass down and flicked it a bit, watching the ice cubes inside jitter around every time he moved it.

On top of the table perched Nick, who was swinging his legs back and forth, smiling awkwardly. Every time they hit the end of the table Shark’s glass and ice cubes clinked around some more. Bowing his head forward, he then said, “Should I go apologize to AK? Was I too hard on him? I’m feeling kind of bad for what I said about his suit, earlier. It’s not too bad, honestly. God, I’m starting to feel really bad now.”

“Don’t apologize,” Ghetto said bluntly, “he deserved every word that you said. He’s not even mad, he’s just being a drama queen. He hung up twice in his and ours earlier call, and the first time was because I said he should ditch his bowtie if he can’t get it to work.”

“He should have listened to you. He looks miserable in that thing, the poor man, he must be so sweaty inside of that suit,” Shark responded.

“Yeah! He’s just bad at listening to other people when he knows that they’re right. I mean, look at us, Shark! We’re perfectly happy without fully button shirts and ties.” Ghetto pounded the table with his fist, making a smug face than leaned back in his chair. “Anyways, I don’t want to think about AK’s fashion choices the rest of the night if I can handle it. What have you two been up to? Dancing, I presume, since that was how I left y’all.”

“Pretty much,” Nick said.

“Lemme guess, it took ten minutes for Shark to work up the nerve to talk to you? You, his boyfriend and previous close friend of many years?”

Nick looked over to Shark and raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Before he could respond, Ghetto was talking again. “Yeah. I saw him behind you when I left—which is why I left. Don’t need to deal with any of that awkward bullshit for fifteen minutes. Shark, learn how to approach boys, please, I’m begging you.”

“It barely took two minutes!” he protested, mildly embarrassed. “And I thought you said you wanted to steal Nick away to hang out with him because, apparently, you never got to spend any time with him anymore.”

“That’s… not exactly what I said,” he said, tugging at his collar awkwardly. Nick looked very interested in where the conversation was going. “I was making a joke, you see, about you and Nick spent a lot of time together and me and AK never seeing you two. It was a joke, I hang out with him a lot. We’re friends.”

“I’m pretty sure you were going on about how you two had been ‘best friends’ for eight years. Like, you repeated that a whole bunch of times. I can call AK over to confirm it if necessary.”

“You really don’t need to call AK over; that would be less than needed. I wasn’t being _that_ dramatic, I think you’re remembering the conversation wrong. I was, specifically, making fun of you for something unrelated to talking about how me and Nick have been ‘best friends for eight years,’ I think you’re making that up to slander my name!”

“Hey, I’m not making up anything, I’m just speaking the truth.”

“You’re making everything up, you’re a bitchass liar. I don’t think we ever were on the phone, earlier, I think you’re lying about that too!”

“I have—bro, Ghetto, I have records to prove we were on the phone. You and AK wouldn’t stop fucking texting me, asking me if we could call. I can and will get AK back over here to prove to Nick that we were on the phone and did talk about your friendship issues.”

“‘Friendship issues’ see? You’re lying again! AK can and will say that we were never on the phone. I’ll text him right now if I need to. Nick, you believe me, right, and not the filthy ass liar you call your boyfriend?”

Both of them looked at Nick expectantly. Instead of paying attention to either of them, he was on his phone, looking at something and chewing on his phone with a concerned look to his face. He put it down, looked at both of them, and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t pay attention to this right now. Apparently, I have some ‘family matters’ —he said that with air quotations—”to attend to. Sorry, again, guys. I’ll continue this again later, but I really think I have to leave right now.”

“Oh,” Shark and Ghetto said in unison.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to keep you from your family matters, would we?” Ghetto said, glaring at Shark as if saying “I dare you to say that we would, I fucking dare you.”

“Yeah, Nick, it’s fine, go talk to your family,” Shark added on, ignoring Ghetto’s pointed stare and layering his hand over Nick’s.

Nick smiled at them, honest and wide, and slipped off the table. Before he sped off, he leaned over and pecked Shark on the cheek (which made his face start to burn again) before leaving. If Shark had been paying any more attention to the wrenching feeling in his gut yelling that something was wrong, he would’ve looked around the room to see if anyone was following him. But he didn’t, because he was distracted by the soon-fading feel of Nick’s lips on his cheek, and Ghetto teasing him endlessly.

A dark figure slipped from the crowd, wordlessly, and left the room.

—

The gym doors swung shut behind him loud, echoing off the endless rows of lockers mirroring each other down the hall. A single light at the end flickered ominously and Nick looked down to see multiple notifications on his phone go off at once: Ones from Jess, Shelby, Sky, and Barney, all with the same rushed and hurried tone. They all ready close to the same thing, some alteration of “Get out of the gym.” Barney’s was even in all caps.

He didn’t know what the whole thing was about. It was starting to make him nervous, something chewing at him. The kind of anxiety that made him dizzy and nauseous, the kind that would get him out of school for the day, shaking and shivering without fever underneath the covers until the wave of paranoia passed as night fell.

As he rounded the first corner, he was greeted by the same sight—all but a few things off. For one, there were two lights on at the end, one closer to him and one shining from around the corner, neither flickering. Two, there was a water fountain a little way away from him. Third, two seniors were up against the lockers, kissing passionately and paying no mind to him standing there, phone in hand. He passed them quick, turning his head away from the scene and trying to tune out the weird noises coming from them. He passed another corner.

Around the third was when he thought he would be good. Nick knew his sister would’ve yelled at him to go further if he had stopped halfway through the third, so he didn’t and continued a little way. A light towards the end was on, above one of the math classrooms, the door of which was shut tight and none of the lights was on the inside. He didn’t know whose idea it was to turn off almost all of the lights in the fucking school—or maybe it was just because he chose to head down the more deserted end of the school. Other classrooms were open, on the side of the school closest to the cafeteria and parking lot, but he was directly advised against going that way, in “fear” of his “safety.” Whatever that meant.

More notifications went off: Two from Shelby and one from Sky, instead of the barrage from all four earlier, thank god. Shelby must’ve been with the whole group when she texted him and advised them to do the same.

Sky’s was, _you’re out, right?? shelby’s getting real fucking anxious. i didn’t see what it was that freaked her the fuck out but it must be something weird as hell to make her react like that. text her, i think she’s starting to lose it._

Shelby’s was, _ARE YOU OKAY????_ , then, in less harsh tones, _please tell me youre out i dont want to have to explain while youre still in the gym. please dont freak out too bad when i tell you what happened please_

Nick’s phone started ringing then; Shelby’s voice was almost unhearable over the blasting music, but he managed to make out an, “Are you out of the gym?” over the unruly bass that he swore he felt from all the way over here.

“Yeah, I’m out, what’s wrong? You’re starting to scare me,” he said, plugging one of his ears with a finger and praying it would make Shelby easier to hear.

“God,” she started, “oh fuck. Okay. Okay, like what I said earlier, please please don’t freak out when I told you what’s going on. It’ll just make everything worse. When I tell you, just stay where you are and don’t go anywhere until we get this sorted out—

“You’re really starting to scare me. What’s going on? Why did I have to come all the way out here? And what do you mean by ‘until we get this sorted out?’”

“—it’s going to be okay. And it’s… it’s bad, Nico, it’s real fucking bad. If you really want to know, confirm it to me— _don’t interrupt,_ I know you want to—and I’ll tell you. Please, please don’t freak out, though. If anything gets too bad I’ll send Sky and Barney over there to chill until the whole thing blows over, but promise me you won’t react too badly when I tell you.” Her voice was quivering; not in a crying way, but in a scared way, like she was terrified of what was going on and was _scared_ for him.

“Okay, okay, I won’t freak out, just please tell me what’s going on, Shelbs, you’re really starting to scare me,” he said, hand starting to shake. Something was seriously, seriously wrong if his sister was freaking out like this.

She sucked in a breath, so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. On the other end of the phone, loud music was still playing, a much darker tone than anything he had heard that night. It sounded dreamy, almost, through the phone, the presumably softer feel turning into more ambient and airy with the addition of empty lockers stretching on each side of him, the music barely echoing against their metal forms. “Someone very, very bad showed up,” she said, words sounding like putty; like she had to force them out through a thick douse of syrup.

“Who showed up?”

“Shelbs?”

She took in another breath. Nick could hear people muttering stuff in the background. His palms were sweating. “Someone really not good. God—fuck, Nico, _he_ showed up, you-know-who, he-who-must-not-be-named, fuck, I don’t want to say his name, your _ex_ showed up.”

Blood rushed to his head as he took this in, swaying on his feet to a non-existent beat, something in his stomach dropping low and a weight settling on his shoulder in the place where hands used to roam. His eyes scoped out where the bathrooms were in case he was gonna be sick. His head pounded in rhythm to Shelby repeating his name over and over again, her voice growing more concerned every time the repetition made its way through his panic.

“Oh,” he said, stars dancing in front of his eyes and heat very high in his head and something barely off with his voice, dangling over uncanny valley. “Okay. That definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. Alright, I’ll stay here for a while.”

“…Nick?” Shelby asked voice laced with concern. “Are you okay?”

Was the lamb okay as it was stalked by the wolf? That depended on who was watching; the lamb, the wolf, or the birds soaring overhead. But she sounded so concerned, and he hated making people feel bad. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice dreamy and ambient and airy. “That just… wasn’t expected. I’ll do what you said and stay here.”

“Okay. Please text me as much as you can to reassure me that you’re safe, please? And if anything seems off, Sky and Barney and—and hell, even Jess, are all willing to come and make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t know where he went, but a few people are looking around, Gray included, so he’s bound to show up eventually. We’re hoping to get him kicked out, but we’re not sure. If you want me to call Dad I will—or you can yourself if you choose. Are you sure you don’t want me to send down a few people to watch over? Sky is getting really nervous.”

“No, no—it’s fine,” he tried to reassure, hands shaking so bad he almost dropped his phone onto the hard ground. “I’ll be fine here. He won’t be able to find me, I’m pretty sure, he would expect me to be at the dance. I might call Dad if things get bad, but you don’t need to send anyone down, have fun at the party. I’ll be fine here. If you’re really worried for me, I’ll lock myself in a bathroom stall or something, but I’m fine. I promise, Shelbs, I’m fine and I will be fine here, by myself, just have fun and look out for him, okay?”

“Okay…” She sounded worried, still, which worried Nick. He didn’t want her night to be ruined because of his own problems. That was something a shitty brother let happen. “Just… continue to text me updates, if you’re okay, if anyone shows up, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will,” he assured her. “I’ll even send pictures of this dark fucking hall if you need to,” he joked, hoping to lighten the mood because his legs were starting to get weak.

“Promise me you’ll text me?”

Okay. So jokes weren’t the best right down. She still sounded really worried. “Yeah, I’ll text you if anything happens. Or just routinely, if it makes you feel better. Talk to you later, I guess—”

In his conversation, he didn’t hear the footsteps round the hall, nor did he hear the footsteps walking up to him, heavy and long. He didn’t see the faint shadow of a person, either, on the floor as he approached. Nick was too busy trying to make his sister feel better as a strange faintness came over him, a pit of dread forming in his stomach (from something he would be alerted to very, very soon—in mere seconds!) as the hungry wolf stalked the lamb, and the birds above scattered, unaware to the fact.

His voice faded off towards the end of the call, being jolted out of his deep conversation and suddenly aware of the footsteps approaching him. His hands moved without thinking as he looked up, quickly hanging up on his sister and shoving his phone into his back pocket, eyes going wide and mouth parting in surprise.

Everything came rushing back to the very present with a pop as a hand slammed into the locker beside him, making Nick flinch hard away from it, shrinking far into himself. A long, tall form towered over him, gazing down lazily with the slightest upward curve of his lips. Any words that he could’ve said ( _fuckoffleavemealonegoawayplease_ —) died on his lips as the man laughed sharply, head thrown back in an over-exaggerated way before he cut himself off suddenly and looked back down at Nick, the expression returned.

“Aww, was someone talking about me?” he teased, his other hand hanging loosely in one of his pockets, “I didn’t know I was so famous in your circles, Nicky. I didn’t think you talked about me anymore, it really warms my cold and broken heart to know that you do.”

He was wearing a deep maroon suit jacket, undone and hanging loosely off his form. Underneath was a white shirt that almost hurt Nick’s eyes with how bright it was, somehow. Black pants and shoes accustomed it, along with a black tie, his clothes seeming even darker in the lighting they were in; light only came from the single bulb still on at the end of the hall, starting to flicker menacingly. It screamed “YOU ARE ALONE” in a voice louder than sound.

He dragged his gaze from head to toe, taking in Nick’s entire outfit, with a slight movement that could either be a hallucination or him licking his lips. “Damn. Didn’t expect us to fit so well together. Red, white, and black? We could almost be confused for a couple if some dumb kids saw us,” he teased. “Those tights look really, really good on you, I hope you know that,” he added with a dark purr.

It took him a while to get his mouth to work, to get words to come out—he was scared of anything he might do if Nick said the wrong thing. “W-wha,” he started, then gulped and tried again. “What are you doing here, Red?”

_He graduated years ago he doesn’t even live in this town anymore why should he even be here at all._ Red took his time answering, instead choosing to let his gaze slide hungrily down to his chest. Nick crossed his arms over it in discomfort, pulling in his arms tight. He should’ve worn a binder. “Ross and I are friends, you know?” he said. “The old man asked me to cash in a favor and asked me if I could chaperone for prom, in his place, since I used to go to the school. People here know me, infamously or not. I should ask you what you’re doing here. You don’t have a date, do you?”

“N-no,” Nick lied. He couldn’t imagine what Red would do if he knew he had a date—if he learned that it was Shark. “I don’t have a date. I-I came here with my sister and with… and with a few friends to hang out and, and stuff.”

“I’ve always hated your sister,” Red said, “she’s a total bitch. Doesn’t know when to quit. Your friends are a different topic, but _god_ they’re annoying. Don’t know when to mind their damn business. I could practically smell that fucking lie, Nicky, tell me who the fuck you’re going with right now.”

“I promise! I’m n-not dating anyone, so I don’t have a date. I just came here with my friends, Red, I _promise_ you I’m telling the truth.”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning in closer. “Who the fuck is it. Is it Ghetto? Man, I’ve always hated that dude. Always got in the way of anything I ever wanted to do. _Please_ please please tell me it’s Ghetto, I’ve always wanted an excuse to beat his ass. AK? I didn’t think you were into cargo shorts but, hey, I could always be wrong.”

“I’m not going with anyone. I’m not lying to you.” Nick stood his ground the best he could and tried to keep the persistent tremor out of his voice and tried not to pass out on the spot, Red looming over him. “Please. I-I’m honestly not.” _Please believe me please fucking believe me please don’t hurt him._ “I promise you. I swear.” _Please leave me alone please don’t hurt me him or anyone else._

Red looked at him hard. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Nick could almost cry. Was he gonna believe him was he gonna leave him alone—”

All of that, all of the hope he had that he would leave him alone, leave him and Shark alone was thrown out a window when Red threw back his head and laughed, mirroring his harsh laugh from earlier, only worse. Every boom and echo made Nick flinch and curl more, more, more into himself, tears almost brought to his eyes. “I’m sorry, Babydoll,” he started when he got himself under control, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” He dragged his nails down Nick’s side, barely preventing himself from breaking the skin. “I saw you dancing with someone earlier. I’m pretty sure you weren’t dancing in a way that _‘just friends’_ dance like, but sure! You don’t have a date. You just went with _friends._ ”

He bowed his head in shame. Every word cut into him like a knife, dragging from neck to stomach. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, voice cracking. “I’m sorry.” It was like a mantra; a protection spell, keeping him from Red’s wrath.

“The fuck you apologizing for?” he said with a cruel smile. He took his other hand out of his pocket and grabbed Nick’s chin, tilting it upwards, forcing him to look at him. “You shouldn’t be ‘sorry’ for anything.”

_I’m sorry._ Instead, he forced out, through gritted teeth, “Why are you here? Why did you follow me?”

“I’m pretty sure I made it clear why I was here: Ross asked me to chaperone. I do hate repeating myself. And, well, we haven’t talked in a year, have we? Not since you were fifteen, at least. Such a shame, you were always so much fun. I invited you to my twenty-first, you know. You didn’t return any of my texts. It made me awfully sad. You almost ruined my birthday! Now that’s something you should feel sorry about.”

“I got a new phone,” Nick said, “and I didn’t want to add you to my new one, so I’m sorry for missing your twenty-first birthday, but I completely forgot about it.”

Red sighed loudly. “That’s a shame. I texted you, sometimes, when I felt lonely. You were always my favorite ex, you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. This is the first time I’ve talked to you as your ‘ex.’”

“What a shame too.” Blood ran down his side as Red dug his nails in further, breaking the skin and then pressing even harder as it started to stain the side of Nick’s shirt. He whimpered, trying not to flinch. “I _hated_ that we had to break up. Your friends are not fun at all. Nothing was wrong with our relationship—they just hated that I was happy with you. Have they stopped being so jealous and possessive with absolutely everything related to you, yet? That was their worst quality, _god._ ”

There were too many things wrong with their relationship for Nick to count on one hand, or two, or three, and every one of them looped back to Red. His friends were just worried about him. They weren’t jealous, or possessive, Red was just trying to do the mind games he was known for. There was nothing wrong with his friends, right? He was leaning in much too close for comfort and Nick shivered hard, wanting to shrink away and leave and only being met with the cold metal of the lockers.

“Y-you’re lying,” he stuttered out.

Red raised an eyebrow. “Am I?” he asked, sounding dangerous. Nothing had changed but the light down the hall went out for a second, two, three, four, before finally flicking back on and he should’ve asked for Sky or Barney to come down. He should’ve done it. Everything was starting to go blurry and dizzy again. (Fuck, he wasn’t starting to dissociate, was he?)

Nick was brave. He wasn’t—it wasn’t—he wasn’t the same as his two, three years younger self. He could cope. He was much, much stronger now, and wouldn’t be shoved around as easily. Yeah. Yeah!

“Just… just leave me alone, alright? I don’t want to talk to you.” Red looked surprised at his words, reeling back an inch and letting go of his chin. “I’m r-really not in the mood for this right now. I should get back to the dance, S-Shelby’s gonna be worried. So either back off or—or I’m going to scream very, very loud and make you leave.”

“You really think anyone would hear you down here?”

It was a threat. He moved his hand from Nick’s side as well. Then, with a swift movement, he grabbed both of his wrists (which had been held tight to his chest, close together, fuck, that was stupid) and jerked them upwards roughly, pulling hard enough to make it hurt as Red pinned them above his, head, against the lockers.

“I’m pretty damn sure I could do _anything_ to you here, and there would be no one who could come help. No one knows where exactly you are, do they not?” he said and Nick’s eyes widened, trying to pull his hands free. “You aren’t the one to be making demands, here, Babydoll.”

With his free hand, Red reached back and fished Nick’s phone out of his pocket. As Nick struggled, he unlocked it (how did he know the passcode?) and put his own phone number into his phone. “Here,” he said, still pinning Nick to the wall. “Now you have my number and no excuse not to talk to me! We should hang out again sometimes. You shouldn’t have a problem with that, since you’re not dating anyone, right?”

This… this entire thing had to be a dream. It had to be, right? Soon, Nick would wake up in bed to Shelby yelling at him about how they had to get ready for prom, and he could brush off this entire thing as a dream. He dug his nails into his palm, almost enough to draw blood, praying that it would wake him up—please. He almost let out a strangled laugh, it was almost comical, the way this whole thing had gone down. It had to be a dream. There was no way Red could actually be here and doing this right now. (The blood already running down his side proved him otherwise.)

He stepped back. Wiped the blood off on his pants. Let his hands go. “See you later, Nicky!” he called as he walked away, the single light at the end of the hall going out for five, ten, fifteen seconds, before sputtering back on with a hacking cough of a flicker.

Nick swayed in spot for a while, letting the blood rush to his head and stars dance in front of his eyes, before crumpling to the floor, a choked sob escaping him as he did. A lock dug into his back as he slid down but it was nothing compared to the churning of his stomach and the long scratches down his palm.

—

_The floor itches. The carpet burns when he moves too much and gets bloodied stains on it when he doesn’t move enough. He would rather stay here the entire day, letting himself waste away on the carpet instead of having to get up, head spinning like an amusement park ride. And everything hurts so much—maybe if he rested for just a little bit longer, he would start to feel better. Maybe then he could get up…_

_A door slams not too far away, and Nick jolts back to reality, remembering where he is and how anyone could walk in on him, sprawled across the floor, and that would be humiliating. With a groan, he pushes himself to a sitting position and then manages to rise shakily to his feet, steadying himself on an unfamiliar desk. The scratches on his back burn, like a lighter being pressed into his skin, and he prays that he’s not leaving a mess everywhere._

_Pulling on his shirt hurts like a bitch. He stops halfway through, pondering if it would be worth it just to leave it and wander through the house shirtless. Maybe Nick could wait until he comes back and then asks for help, even though it’s… even though it’s been hours, and he still hasn’t shown up. He didn’t bother to lock the door as he left, doesn’t that mean that he was planning on coming back?_

_God. There were bruises all over his torso and everything hurt much more as he tries to walk, finally full-dressed and mildly presentable. His hair must be disheveled to all hell and might be stained with blood, he didn’t know. His head is fucking pounding, for some reason (did he drink something? Smoke something? He can’t remember. He can’t remember much at all) and everything starts hurting more and more the closer he gets to the door (why did it have to be so damn far away? Who was in charge of making this door?)._

(It had been much too long, Shark thought. AK had come back and he and Ghetto had gotten into a long argument, but Nick was still gone. Another ten minutes passed and he was starting to get really, really worried. What if something had happened? What if Nick needed him and he wasn’t there? He should try and find Shelby, ask her what was going on.)

_Nick was more upset that Red left him alone than he was at all the marks covering his body. That wasn’t something a good boyfriend did, right? He would confront him once he got out of this stifling room and got downstairs, he promises to himself. They were going to have a conversation about Red ditching him all the time._

_He barely makes it through the door, slumping against the wall and it slams shut behind it. Everything hurts so much and he can’t do anything about it. He shuts his eyes. Maybe… maybe he can stand here for a little while, get his strength back, and maybe Red will come back and help him! Hopefully…_

_Footsteps approach him. (He almost croaks out, “Red?” but decides against it at the last moment. He doesn’t want to seem desperate.) A familiar voice says, in confusion, “Nick? Is that you?” like he was the last person they were expecting to see._

_“Cory?” he forces out, voice catching at the end, hoarse and feeling weird in his mouth. “What're you doing here?” His voice is slurring a lot more than he wishes it would, and everything feels strange and tingly._

_“Jesus Christ, I should be asking you the same thing!” A hand rests on his shoulder, holding him in place gently. “What are you doing here? I thought almost everyone had left like, hours ago, the house is deserted.”_

_Nick opens his eyes, finding Cory staring down at him with concern not masked in his eyes. “I just woke up,” he says, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore.”_

_“Okay, here—” Cory pulls him against him, holding him up with an arm and letting Nick slump almost completely against him, legs going weak as he does so. Then, they start moving slowly. “What the hell happened to you? What are you even doing here—were you in Red’s room? What were you doing in Red’s room, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two together?”_

(Shark asked Shelby where Nick was, and she shrugged and asked him to look for him. “All I know is that he’s somewhere in the halls away from the cafeteria, and hasn’t been responding to my texts.” She sounded vaguely pissed, but also, underneath it all, worried. “Something happened. You should ask him about it yourself, I can’t really… explain what’s going on in full detail. It’s something real bad, Shark. Real bad.”)

_“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and Cory picks up the pace, steadying them at the foot of the stairs._

_“What are you sorry for?” he says. They make it halfway down the stairs with Nick wincing at every step and flinching every time Cory makes them move a little too fast before he stops dead in his tracks, and looks at Nick, wide-eyed. “Wait, hold on—Jesus Christ, fucking hell, are those bite marks?”_

_One of his hands leaves him and goes to pull his shirt to the side, Nick cringing as Cory brushes over the marks. “What the fuck did he do to you, Nick?”_

_He can’t respond because he doesn’t know the answer; everything is fuzzy and weird and Cory’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a radio instead of being right next to him. Nick feels airless and the stairs are five feet, ten feet, fifteen feet longer than they should, a never-ending staircase curving down and around and around (Red practically shoved him up those, hours earlier, when the house was filled to the brim with people)._

“ _Nick?_ ”

The voice is a little clearer this time, the fog started to dissipate around it, but he still feels far, far away. There’s no arm holding him in place anymore, no hand on his neck and no familiar faces. Why was Cory there? He never found out. He _never_ asked, _barely_ remembering the entire thing the next morning. God. Fuck. Everything felt weird and dark and dizzy, sweat sticking his clothes to his frame, the stickiness of blood on his _back_ —no, not his back, his side.

“Nick!”

He was forced back to reality as Shark grabbed him, sank down next to him, pulled him onto his lap. Hot tears were running down his face—when did he start crying?—and he couldn’t get a full breath in, chest hitching. “Nick—Nick, baby, holy shit, are you okay? What happened—what’s going on—why were you freaking out like that? God, you’re bleeding, what’s going on?”

Nick buried his head into Shark’s shoulder and sobbed loudly, shaking uncontrollably. He hadn’t cried like this in months; he’s never cried like this in front of another person, much less. It felt embarrassing and uncomfortable to be so vulnerable. He was the good kid, not the crybaby.

Shark held him tight as he cried, rubbing his back and trying not to tear up himself. A voice in his head kept telling him it was fake, that he would leave eventually, leave him to be by himself and to drag himself out of this stupid fucking party but five, ten, fifteen minutes passed and he didn’t leave—just sat there holding Nick until his sobs turned to cries turned to whimpers turned to sniffles, until he was worn out enough to not bother about feeling embarrassed, to let himself be vulnerable in front of someone else.

A few minutes after he stopped crying, a few minutes of him holding on tight and rubbing his back, Shark finally said, “What happened?” in the softest voice imaginable.

“It—it was,” he tried, but then stopped as he started to choke up again and waited until all the tears were blinked out of his eyes.

“It was Red, S-Shelby warned me that he was here, so—so I left to go hide away and he must have followed me, then he—”

“Did he touch you or do anything to you?” Shark asked.

“No, he just threatened and harassed me, b-but—fuck, I’m sorry for getting snot and tears and shit on your jacket.”

Every word felt like a confession, two steps off from deaths row and four steps off from getting his ass kicked to a therapist. He said, “It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Nick sucked in a deep, relieved breath, glad that he didn’t bring up the blood deep down and sad even deeper down that Shark even had to ask in the first place.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Shark said suddenly, his grip on him tightening. “I swear to god, if he ever talks to you again—if he so much as _looks_ at you again, I’m dragging Ghetto and the rest of them over and killing him.”

Nick laughed. As much as he could, voice breaking and cracking like fine china. “He would deserve that. And more, I guess.”

“I fucking hate him.” Then, “Come on, let’s get out of here before he comes back, or something. I wouldn’t want to turn prom night into a murder scene.

Nick just nodded.

Shark pulled him in closer, then stood up awkwardly, wobbling on his feet until he got in a good position to carry him, Nick’s legs wrapped around his waist, and be able to walk at the same time. _You didn't have to carry me,_ Nick wanted to say. But he didn’t, because if Shark let go of him, he would’ve fallen to the ground, and might not have forced himself back up. It felt good to just bury his face in the crook of his neck and not pay attention to the endless rows of lockers and the few lights, instead busying himself with the smell of cheap cologne.

He took him out a back door, set there for kids whose seventh-period class was further back in the school, or their lockers were, so it wouldn’t be as hard for them to leave the building. Only the smokers and popular kids really used it, though.

The smokers, because they didn’t want to get caught by the adults. The popular kids, because they didn’t have to take the bus.

Cold air hit Nick like a hammer and he welcomed it, getting a breath of cold, clean (as clean as it could be) air. It was different from the hot, stifling halls of the school, the fans kicking on lazily but barely providing any coolness to the school. They only turned on the AC in late May, after enough kids complained or enough kids got heat stroke during gym to make them be scared about a possible lawsuit.

The parking lot was hauntingly empty; none of the kids he saw walking in were lingering around and, for a late Spring night, it was surprisingly dark. Had to be after eleven, or damn close to it. He didn’t know how long he had been in the hall talking to Red or crying on Shark.

Speaking of Shark, they got to his truck, and he slipped Nick into the passenger’s seat before circling around and getting in the drivers. Nick’s hands fumbled with the seatbelt, shaking enough to make it a challenge, before clicking it into place. Shark got his in, started the car with a loud roar that made Nick jump and drove off, almost barreling over an unsuspecting bird hopping around the lot.

The deafening silence was filled when Shark turned on the radio, to a station with a man crooning out some love profession or something. Then he changed it again, to someone singing about sadness and break-ups. He changed it again. Some older, upbeat, party song and that’s what he left it on. Nick was glad for the distraction, zoning out as the car ride stretched out longer and longer.

—until he almost missed where they were going. He got a glimpse of the sign right as they drove in, one of the parks close to his house, with a huge thing underneath flipped from the usual “OPEN” to “CLOSED,” seeing as it was nearing twelve AM.

“Isn’t this place closed,” he said, bewildered.

“Yeah,” Shark responded, “but I don't really care. There’s no one around here to bust us, anyways, all the police are probably stalking around the school. Looking for kids drinking or doing other illegal things.”

“What if we get caught?”

“You run, I try and talk them out of it. Deal?”

Shark helped Nick out of the passenger’s side after they parked, letting him lean all his weight on him and continued to allow him to do that as they made their way further into the park, passing benches and trees and little chalk marks and drawings on the ground from little kids and sometimes older kids, by the amount of swear words there were.

Or maybe those words were from the little kids. He didn’t know if their parents watched them play around or not.

Shark led them to a small playground and metal swing set. Nick lowered himself onto one of the swings and curled his hand around the chains. Shark was texting someone on his phone, pacing around the wood chips and Nick swung idly, not bothering to make it swing more than an inch from its resting spot every time he kicked upwards.

He shivered, only in a light shirt. It was a cold night. Shark looked up and saw it. “Do you want my jacket,” he asked, putting his phone into his pocket.

Nick nodded shyly and before he got onto the swing next to him, he handed Nick his jacket, who pulled it on gratefully.

“Let me guess,” he said after Shark got settled. “I ended up missing the slow dance? Did they even do a slow dance.”

“Yeah, you missed the slow dance,” he confirmed.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said.

“It’s not your fault. They didn’t even play good music for it. Ed Sheeran for the first one, then some song that wasn’t even slow or romantic for the second one. They sure were some bad fucking excuses of slow dances, I don’t think you would have liked them.”

“I’m still sorry.” Shark looked at him as he talked, expression unreadable. “I ruined the night, in a way. Stupid Red and stupid flashbacks. I shouldn’t have left. If I stayed with you and Ghetto instead, this whole thing wouldn’t have happened.

He didn’t say anything to that. Instead, they swung in silence, Nick kicking the chips and Shark going higher and higher each swing, making the whole thing creak nastily and making him flinch until Shark realized how bad it was and stopped, resorting to the same kicking and barely going an inch higher than normal that he was doing.

Nick wondered if Shelby was wondering about him. He had left his phone in Shark’s truck, not wanting to check if he had any notifications. He wondered if she was who he was texting while he was pacing. He hoped that she knew he was safe, with his boyfriend, far away from the school—and, this time, not followed. He should text her, he knew, but Nick didn’t want to do that quite yet. It would make the entire night seem much, much more real than he would like.

Shark slid off his and held out a hand to him, shocking Nick from his daze of thoughts. “What?” Nick said, too quickly.

“You can’t be sorry about missing the slow dance if we do it now,” Shark reasoned with a smile on his face. “I have my phone on me. I can play music. Got anything you wanna dance to?”

“Oh.” Nick blinked in surprise. (He shouldn’t.) Then, shyly, took his hand and slid off his own swing as well. “Okay then. I don’t care what we dance to. Just put something on shuffle, and we’ll make do. Just like the actual prom, I guess.”

His words were met with a grin, and Shark pressed something on his phone before tossing it aside into the chips. As a soft song started to play, he pressed his hands to Nick’s waist, and he wrapped his arms around Shark’s shoulders.

It wasn’t like the night in his room; it was much rawer. The music was quieter, being from a single phone tossed on the ground, but filled the air fully. The faint sound of crickets and other creatures chirping in the background barely distracted from the song; it almost made it better, in a way. The only light was from the streetlights lining the paths up and down the park, in thick lines spread across so everyone knew where to go.

Their dance was less the laughing, spinning in circles that it was in his room and more swaying, holding each other close. More like how the dance ended, with Nick’s chin tucked underneath Shark’s chin and exhaustion taking over.

The song was mystical, not like the songs that would play at prom. Fitting, for the night and lights and the slight creak of the swings behind them. The trees swayed gently overhead, and for a second, the fear of getting caught left Nick’s head. Shark seemed to be humming along to the lyrics as they swayed; Nick, in his suit jacket and Shark in a shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no tie to be found.

Then, he leaned down and kissed him.

Nick sighed into it, kissing him back, pulling him closer, wrapping his arms tighter around his waist. The song continued to play, finally starting to fade out after a few minutes of soft dancing. God, how he’d wanted to do this earlier, the lights deep and red and Shark looking at him like he’d finally found something worth fighting for. (And he had; both in this lifetime and the one before, the promise of protection staying the same throughout everyone.)

Shark pulled back, kissed his neck, and the first thing he said after he did was, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Nick said, then stretched onto his toes and kissed him again.


End file.
